Please Whisper ... Lenore

January fifteenth, old man winter’s biting breath
 Stinging, stinging and then…the ringing
Ringing ‘cross my conscious breadth
  Yammering, clamoring…for my death
Poe’s long lost lover…now back for more
Undesired, uninvited…mortiferous Lenore

February tenth, Hell’s bells will not yield
  Pealing, pealing, sheer madness dealing
Dealing torment; no defense to wield
  No bulwark, rampart…guardian shield
On twilight’s long fingertips…reanimated lore
 “Together forever”…spoke a smiling Lenore

March twentieth, “What is this hexing?”
  Whining, whining, ‘t is relief I’m pining
Pining always; each hour most vexing
 The sun has gone black, I brood perplexing
At midnight’s hour…I pace well worn floor
 Her song inharmonious…fiendish Lenore

April nineteenth, and the bells still yet toll
Squealing, squealing, no hints of healing
Healing to me - mute, yet spoke on distant knoll
Or in the tattered chambers of my melancholy soul
I vainly search for key that unlocks my prison door
 And upon each opening stands…unpitying Lenore

May thirtieth, the anguish embedded
Dinging, dinging, her gross, unhinged singing
Singing, nay howling it goes on abetted
A tune she knows well, it is never forget’d
Prayers and entreaties, to the heavens galore
Intercepted and shredded…calculating Lenore

June seventeenth, “the band marches on”
Wailing, wailing, with my sanity sailing
Sailing to sunset, calm waters e’er gone?
Will flute rendered on high greet every new dawn?
I’m locked in the clutches of a pain-giving whore
A sobriquet penned with the poison...Lenore
 
July eighth, finds my mind torn to tatters
Roaring, roaring, Oh God! My soul needs restoring
Restoring my interest in trivial matters
The windy flight of a bee as the flower petals scatter
Yet each moment I fantasize ‘bout squaring the score
My mistress embraces…God Damn You, Lenore!

August third, metaphorically, “the end of my rope”
“Eeeeeeee, Eeeeeee,” my sole destiny?
This anguish unique with unspeakable scope
Do mine eyes deceive ‘t is the mast of ship hope?
To Poe, unmet friend, whose tales I adore
Nevermore, nevermore…please take back…your Lenore

A Date ... With Destiny

A quasi-urchin making up in requests

What she lacked in a tug-of-war reality

A forever fleeting Cabbage Patch Kid

The string perdurably, charmingly pulled

“Gimme!” spelled on brown eyes of want

Atomic energy…with dusky blond hair

Now, a beautiful young woman, forging

Life’s uncertain and tumultuous waters

A devoted mother and loving wife

The “Patch String” slightly frayed from use

Yet, a few thousand yesterdays ago

A little rag-a-muffin with endless suggestions

Proceeded to “assist” a pair of old friends

To move old furniture in an old truck

A task arduous and stiflingly mundane

Still, this day would be proven different

For the “doll” in the center seat, knew not

The concept of boredom, adventure was her game

Horses passed in fields were “so pretty”

And lumbering cows excitedly “so big”

The truck’s static prone radio was overwhelmed

For youth now danced to tunes of windshield whimsy

“Can we stop and get a Slurpee Daddy…can we!?”

“I gotta go pee Daddy…and ‘they’ have ice cream cones!”

Resistance was futile…dolls always know what strings to pull

Lips smacked and a smallish tongue swirled

The mouth now occupied, in tune with droning wheels

Sleepy time loomed on the horizon as did our destination

But do a doll’s eyes truly rest?

For just as the Sandman approached…

A carpet of grass! Monkey bars illumed by sinking sun!

Drooping eyelids now sparkled, untied shoes fidgeted madly

“Can we Daddy?  Can we stop at the park?  Please Daddy!?”

But Daddy and “Uncle” were tired;

Wizened eyes met ‘cross a mop top

“No Baby Girl…not this time…we’ve had a long day…

You got your ice cream…it’s late…and time to go home.”

Tiny tears slid down smudged cheeks and dried ice cream

Daddy and I used a towel to make clean spots…one to a side

The park and its unused wonders

Faded into sunset and rear view mirror

And the Cabbage Patch Kid,

A close acquaintance with disappointment

Retracted her string, quiet ensued,

Years and park dancing ‘top memories pages

Perhaps one day, on tomorrow’s twilight,

She and I will venture forth

Through short grass and long recollections

to explore that playground

And a new little “monkey” will most decidedly

be accompanying us

To blaze trails through the sand…

with ice cream sticky on giggling lips